


The New Stilinski in Town

by skyegazer8



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Explicit Language, F/M, Family Fluff, Fluff, Humor, Lies, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Past Abuse, Past Relationship(s), Secrets, Sexual Humor, Sexual Tension, Smut, Stilinski Family Feels, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-07-04
Updated: 2015-07-01
Packaged: 2018-02-07 10:09:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 9,860
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1895097
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skyegazer8/pseuds/skyegazer8
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There's a new girl in town, and it's Stile's cousin, Samantha Stilinski. She's fled to Beacon Hills for unknown reasons, and nobody pushes the issue. She's accepted into their group of friends, except they keep the whole supernatural thing a secret from her, not wanting to draw her into that world. Or has she already been drawn into it?</p><p> </p><p>________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________</p><p>Or basically Samantha is practically a Female!Stiles, and drives Derek crazy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Welcome to Beacon Hills

**Author's Note:**

> MTV owns all.
> 
> This starts off at the end of S3b, minus Kate and the kidnapping of Derek...but she may come in later, idk yet.
> 
> *the very beginning is in Stiles's POV, but the rest will consist of Samantha's and Derek's.

Stiles sat the kitchen, shoving a sugary cereal he most definitely should not be eating into his mouth, when his father walked in and set his coffee mug on the counter. He immediately looked up at the sound; his dad never set down his coffee cup  _before_ he was finished with it. Something was wrong. He racked his brain to see what he could have done this time; several things came to mind.

"Stiles," his father began, "there's something I need to talk to you about."

"I  _swear_ we're being safe, Dad." His spoon clattered into his bowl.

"What? What are you talking about?" The sheriff's brow knit in confusion.

"Uh...nothing...what was it you were saying?" He picked back up his spoon, and tried to maintain a look of innocence. His dad looked as if he was about to pursue the matter, but then decided against it and sighed. It was something his dad did daily with him.

"I was going to say that I just got a call from Samantha, and apparently things aren't going too well for her, so she's gonna stay here until she goes off for college."

Stiles instantly went to worry-mode. "What's wrong? Is she alright? Do we need to kill somebody?" Stiles itched to grab his bat.

"Seeing as I'm the sheriff, no we will not be killing anybody. And she didn't really say. She needs a place to stay, and that's all that matters to me. Besides, I'm sure she'll tell you once she gets here." Stiles relaxed a bit; his dad was right, Samantha told him everything, and he, her. Well, maybe not  _everything_ on his part.

"Which will be in about thirty minutes. I have to leave for work in ten. Could you please be here when she gets in? You know, don't go chasing after werewolves or nogitsunes with Scott and everyone for at least thirty minutes.

"I can assure you Dad, I will  _not_ be chasing anything at the moment. And is she really coming that soon?"

"Yeah. I would've liked more of a heads-up, but she sounded really distressed."

Stiles nodded, and continued his breakfast. His father picked his mug back up, and went about getting ready for work. When he was ready to leave, his dad came in, gave a kiss on his forehead, and said he loved him and goodbye, which Stiles reciprocated. He had be doing that a lot, his dad, ever since he had gotten his body back. Stiles didn't mind.

Stiles finished the cereal, washed his dishes, then dicked around for fifteen minutes. It mostly consisted of him flipping though early morning cartoons. He he heard the familiar creak on the porch outside, he switched off the TV. Before she had the chance to knock, he swung open the door, revealing one of the people he held most dear. She looked the same as she always had, with a few differences here and there.

"Hey." Samantha smiled weakly.

"Get in here you." Stiles reached out, and drew her into his arms. It had been a while since he had seen her. Samantha wrapped her arms around him, and squeezed him tight. She buried her face in his chest, nuzzling a bit, and she drew in a shaky breath, as if holding back sobs. Stiles leaned back a bit to look at her face. Her eyes were overwhelmed with unshed tears.

"Missed me that much, huh" He teased lightly.

"Yep. That's exactly it." She halfheartedly laughed, and wiped the moisture from her eyes.

"Is that all?" He gestured to her small duffel bag around her shoulder.

"Yeah. Its not much, but its all I could take. Thankfully, I have plenty of money to buy new clothes."

Stiles step to the side, so Samantha could enter the house, and took notice of a few things. She had prominent dark circles around her eyes, and there was an extreme tension in her shoulders. Not to mention a hyper-alertness, bordering on paranoid, air about her.

"Is everything alright, Samantha? I mean, you just show up suddenly, with barely anything, and you look like you haven't slept decently in a while" Stiles rubbed at the back of his neck.

"You don't look like you slept in a while either. Or rather you went a long period without sleep, and now you're trying to catch up." Her green eyes were narrowed.

"I'm not the one who moved halfway across the country on whim, and since you fit the criteria, how about we talk about you."

Samantha sighed, and rubbed the back of her neck. Exactly how Stiles usually does. One of the many things they had in common.

"Things back at home, got a little rough, and I needed a change of pace."

"That's it?  _That's_ all you're gonna give me?  _Me_?" Stiles stared at her incredulously.

"I don't know what to tell you, Stiles. There's nothing much else to it. Also, when does school start here?" A bit startled at her change of pace, he glanced at his phone.

"Twenty minutes. Why?"

"Because I'm gonna bite the bullet, and enroll today. I just want to get into a normal schedule as soon as possible." She unzipped her bag and pulled out an envelope. "Mind if I borrow a pen and notebook today? I'll buy some supplies after school today."

"Sure." He grabbed his backpack and chucked the items at her, which she caught.

"Thanks."

"Go ahead and put your bag in the guest room, and then we'll leave for school." He nodded to the stairs. She murmured her agreement, and dashed upstairs. Stiles went outside to warm-up his Jeep. A few moments later Samantha joined him. He switched gears, and reversed out of the driveway. They were silent for a moment before Samantha spoke.

"Oh, turn this up; I love this song." Stiles twisted to volume knob, and sneaked a quick glance at her. She gazed out the window, mouthing the words to the song, and Stiles hoped with every fiber in his being that things could be normal, or something resembling normal, just this once.


	2. Beacon Hills High School

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> School shit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, sorry I lied. This chapter will also be in Stile's POV.
> 
> *and Kira isn't being presumptuous, in this fic she and Scott are dating.
> 
> **hypertrichosis is wolf-man syndrome.

Stiles sat at the lunch table surrounded by his friends, fidgeting. Something he always did, but this time there was a purpose. Scott kept shooting him furtive looks. He was probably sensing his elevated heart rate and nervousness.

He still hadn't told anyone about Samantha. Stiles thought he had been waiting to tell them all at once, but now he realized it was because he didn't really know how to tell them. Finally, after several minutes of him freaking out underneath the surface, Isaac got fed up with him.

"Dude, what's your deal?"

"Uh-there's uh-um-something I need to tell you guys..."

"What is it?" Scott voiced his concern.

"Well, you see, there's been this development, and-"

"Oh here you are. I'm just letting you know I'm gonna run to the library real quick; they have the latest Game of Thrones book, and I gotta get before someone else does."

Stiles turned to her a cocked and eyebrow. "Ok...why are you telling me this?"

"Just in case you wanted to know where I was, asshole." Scott choked back a snicker, and Samantha's eyes locked on to him.

"Scott?"

"Hey Samantha, what are you doing here?" Scott's face puzzled.

"Oh, I totally go here now. Also, can I just say that you're totally hot now. Like _wow_. I mean, not to say that you weren't cute before. You were adorable. But my gosh, you're fucking hot. Congratulations." She smiled wide at Scott while he blushed cherry red.

"Um, excuse me?" Kira's polite, and small voice came from the other side of Scott.

"Yes?"

"I don't mean to be rude but who are you?"

"Oh, sorry. I'm Samantha, Stiles's cousin. Nice to meet you..."

"Kira. I'm Scott's girlfriend."

"Even more congratulations, Scott. She's gorgeous." She hit Scott in the arm. "Anyway, I have to fight to the death in the library. Bye!" Samantha all but ran out of the cafeteria.

All eyes swung to Stiles.

"Uh yeah, so that's the thing I wanted to tell you guys...My cousin is staying with me, until after graduation. Yeah..." He halfheartedly pumped his fist in the air.

"When did this happen?" Scott asked.

"Like literally today. She showed up twenty minutes before school started, no lie."

" _She's_ your cousin?" Isaac implored from down the table.

"Yeah. Why?" Stiles narrowed his eyes at the werewolf.

"Because she's totally hot, and well, you're you."

"Excuse you, I am hot in a pale-skinned, gangly, geek-next-door kinda way, thank you very much." The venom in his tone was apparent.

"How does she get her hair that way?" Malia questioned referring to what Samantha called her 'seabreeze' hair, which started as a dark indigo blue at her roots and eventually faded to a lilac at the tips.

"A lot of bleach and fantasy hair color." Lydia replied, while she filed her nails.

"It looks really cool." Danny said, and Kira nodded in agreement.

"And did you see her nose  _and_  Monroe piercing? I bet she has tattoos. Does she have tattoos, Stiles?" Lydia looked from her cuticles. He nodded.

"So not only is she hotter than you, but also cooler?"

"Fuck you Isaac, I'm cool."

"Hey guys," Scott said in his annoyingly calming and commanding Alpha voice, "I think we should be focusing on something else. Like the fact Samantha is probably gonna join our group, and we consist of two werewolves, a werecoyote, a banshee, a kitsune, a former nogitsune, and Danny, who I still don't know what to label as, and she doesn't know the existence of any of those things.

"Why does she _have_ to join the group?" Isaac raised an eyebrow.

"Because shithead, she's my cousin, and she's pretty cool. It would be pretty fucking rude if I didn't let her hang out with us."

"I'm just saying, she doesn't have to absolutely. She can find her own friends."

"Isaac." Scott warned as he saw Stiles almost come undone. Normally, Stiles wouldn't be a threat to someone like Isaac, but he had Malia now, and he wasn't above letting her fight for him where he couldn't. Which was pretty much everywhere.

"Look, I know Samantha too," Scott continued, "And I want her to hang out with us. Stiles is right; she is pretty cool."

"Well, in that case, we just won't tell her. Should be easy enough." Lydia snarked.

Before anyone could say another word, Samantha slid up in the empty seat next to Stiles. She held up a thick book, triumph written all over her face.

"Snatched it right from under some guy's hands. You should have seen his face; he looked like he was about to cry." She beamed.

"Was it Jared? Dark hair, glasses, kinda nervous looking?"

"Yeah."

"Oh, you're cruel. He's been waiting for that book forever."

"He should've put his name on a waiting list then." She shrugged.

"Cruel and ruthless, you are."

"Forget selfish, do not. Happy, not to mention." Stiles and her snickered.

"Its a Star Wars thing." He explained to Malia when he saw the confused look on her face.

"Also, when I was sprinting to the library, I had a thought. You didn't mention Scott had a new girlfriend. Last you told me, him and that Allison girl had broken up." The entire table tensed. "Which one is she?" Samantha leaned in a whispered to Stiles.

"She-uh-she's no-no longer with us." Stiles stared at the faux wood of the table.

"You make it sound as if she's dead." There were sharp intakes of breath, and Stiles remained silent.

"No," Samantha said when she realized, "oh no, Stiles. Shit, I am so sorry. Why didn't you tell me?" She grabbed his hand and squeezed, her eyes mortified and concerned.

"Just had a lot on my mind." Stiles mumbled.

"I am so sorry. All of you." Nothing was said, they all just nodded. Awkwardness ensued.

"Oh, by the way," Stiles said suddenly, trying to defuse the tension, "These are my friends: obviously you know Scott, Kira, Lydia, Isaac, Danny, and Malia." He pointed to each one in turn.

"So you're Malia? I've heard a lot about you. You have fantastic eyebrows." Samantha leaned over Stiles to look at his girlfriend(?)(They still haven't 'defined the relationship).

"Thank you. Your scent is pleasant. And its all over you." Malia turned to Stiles and sniffed lightly. The rest of the table gave each other slightly panicked looks.

"Haha thanks. Is it really all on you?" Samantha leaned into Stiles, and also sniffed. "I don't smell my perfume on you. Maybe I'm just used to it." She shrugged.

Stiles had been holding his breath, then he released it when Samantha moved on. He gave Malia a sharp look, which she returned.

"So...you and Stiles are cousins." Isaac implored Samantha as she open the book in front of her.

"That's what I've been told my whole life. So, unless it's a lie, I'm gonna go with yes." Stiles shook with silent laughter at her snark.

"From that answer alone, I'm assuming you and Stiles are really close?" Lydia pursed her lips, but her eyes sparkled with humor.

"Yep. He tells me everything...well, almost everything."

"Everything?" Kira said, worry etched in her face.

"Pretty much. Like the problems he was having at school, with lacrosse, with certain people. He told me the first, and every time after, he had been kissed, the time he was  _this_ close to losing his virginity, the time he  _actually_ did," she glanced slyly at Malia, who didn't even blush, "Recently, we've been getting into politics. Oh, and we just ask each other stupid or random or crazy questions. Just shit like that."

"What's the craziest thing he's ever asked you?" Danny said slowly. Samantha remained silent as she took a moment to ponder.

"I'd probably have to say was when you asked about sexuality. Remember?" Stiles felt a blush creep up his skin as he nodded.

"Oh?" Was Lydia's reply. It seemed everyone was curious too.

"May I?" Samantha asked.

"Why not?"

"Alright, so one day Stiles is like, 'Hey Sammie, do you think I'm gay?' and I was like, 'No. I just think you like who you like, Stiles.' And he was all like, 'What's that supposed to mean?' To which I explained to him, 'I don't think you're just one thing, like straight, gay, or bi. That's too rigid. Everyone is on some different point. You fall somewhere on a spectrum. Like me for instance, I like guys, but I appreciate women; they're beautiful, and they put a lot of work into it, something that I admire, because heavens knows I'm hopeless when it come to that shit. And I'm not gonna lie, if Beyonce or Emma Watson, came up to me and was like 'hey lets get married' I totally would, and I wouldn't even  _look_ at anyone else for the rest of my life. But some people are strictly guys or girls, or they like both, with a tendency to one gender or they like both equally. And I think where you fall is you like who you like.' To me that's the question that got me the most.

"You know Samantha, I think I like you." Danny smiled at her, flashing his dimples.

"Thanks, Danny. Where on the spectrum are you?" She grinned back.

"Strictly guys, I'm afraid." His dimples deepened.

"Nah, I get it. They have nice butts." Danny practically roared with laughter. Samantha had earned Danny's approval in a matter of minutes. One down, four to go.

"Was that really the oddest question  _Stiles_ ever asked you?" Lydia was dubious.

"Yeah." Her words rang with certainty.

"Of all the crazy shit I've asked you, why on Earth was that the one that stood out to you?"

"Because you've always been on my level when it comes to that shit; I thought you were there with me. I didn't expect to explain that to you."

"I seriously can't believe that you think that's the craziest thing Stiles's ever asked you."

"Well, I mean, you get the usual sorts of questions: what's the meaning of life; what do you think your alternative-universe self is doing; do you think werewolves exist? Shit like that."

"And what did you say?" Scott's eyes widened.

"To which one?"

"All of them?" Lydia tried to shrug with nonchalance.

"The first one, whatever you want it to be. The second one, hopefully marrying Tom Hiddleston, and the last one," Stiles had been tense, watching her closely, and he saw a dark shadow pass over her eyes, with maybe a glint of fear expanding her pupils, then as quick as came it was gone, "I think there may be a reason the myths of men who turned into wolves became a thing. There's a mental condition where people believe that they're not meant to be humans, but animals, and couple that with hypertrichosis, people may have thought they were actually wolves. I also think that anything is possible." Once she finished she looked back down at her book, and Stiles knew she wouldn't talk for a bit.

While Samantha's eyes were downcast, the rest of the table exchanged grievous looks. All of they knew better than anyone that 'anything is possible.'


	3. At Home with the Stilinskis

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Basically, Stilinski family feels.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I keep forgetting to mention that the reason I didn't use violence archive warning, because I'm not entirely sure yet how violent and graphic some scenes are going to be, so just a heads up. Not in this chapter, though. For future reference. 
> 
> MTV owns all.

Samantha leaned up against the light blue, banged up jeep. The sun beat down on the pavement, and the heat that rose from the concrete was almost unbearable. She wiped the sweat accumulating on her forehead, and reached in her pocket from her phone. Before she could start growling her phone, wondering where the hell that infernal cousin of hers was, the object of her less-than-nice thoughts appeared, sprinting towards her. He skidded to a halt in front of her, put his hands on his knees, and panted heavily.

"I'm-sorry-forgot-here-keys." He held out the jeep's keys suddenly, them swaying in his hands. She took them from him, taking in his apparel. He wore black gym shorts, with a burgundy jersey, and probably shoulder pads since Stiles didn't actually look that broad.

"Want me to pick up dinner for when you get out of practice?"

"Ohmygoshyes." Stiles's words came out breathless.

"Roscoe's deli?"

"It's as if you read my mind." He smiled wide. She returned it.

"The usual?"

"Uh duh. Look, I gotta get back before Coach goes crazy. Again."

"From the sounds of it, he's always like that." Samantha raised her eyebrows.

"Yeah, he is." Stiles sighed, then took off in the direction of a sports field.

She clambered up into the stifling hot jeep, slid the key into the ignition, and turned it on. Trying not to touch anything that had the potential to give her third degree burns, she jacked up the AC in a vain attempt to cool the cabin. She sat there for a few minutes, listening to music, waiting for the air to become habitable, when she glanced in the rear view mirror, and felt a jolt of pure fear rise through her. She let a startled gasp, before she realized she was looking at a misshapen shadow from a tree.

Samantha sat there, panting, practically sobbing, from the pounding of her heart. There for a second she thought she had seen  _him_.

She chocked back her panic, the feeling almost taking over her, and pushed those thoughts from her mind. There was no way he could be here; she had made sure of that. And yet, a huge part of her doubted it.

Before she could dwell on it longer, she shifted gears, and sped out of the parking lot. Eventually, her breathing returned to normal, and by the time she entered Walmart, she almost felt fine. Safe. But she still kept glancing over her shoulder every five seconds.

She filled the cart up with school supplies, then headed to buy the things she wouldn't be at Uncle John's house, like snacks she preferred or tampons. She paid for her items, and by the time that was done, she knew Stiles would get out of practice soon. Samantha drove across town for the best deli she had ever been to. The restaurant wasn't that busy when she arrived, so she ordered three meals fairly quickly, waited about ten minutes, and by the time she left the dinner rush had come in.

When she got back to the house, it was empty. After she dead-locked the door, she went into the kitchen, and placed the food in the microwave, to retain the heat, and then ambled to the living room. She still had about fifteen minutes before she had to go pick up Stiles, so she laid on the couch, and switched on the TV. She flipped through the stations, until she settled on a Castle marathon. Not really watching, she allowed herself for the first time to let go a little bit. Closing her eyes, she thought back to the events that lead her here, and when she fluttered them back open, tears fell. Samantha quickly wiped them away, not wanting her eyes to be rimmed with red or her nose to run, to avoid any questions. Instead, she willed herself to become numb.

Samantha wasn't sure how long she laid, feeling nothing, but the next thing she knew, Stiles walked into the living room, but not from the direction of the front door. She merely blinked whenever he came into her line of vision.

"Samantha?" His words were tentative and his amber eyes full of concern.

"Hey. What time is it?" She sat up a bit.

"After  6:30."

"Oh my God. I can't believe I forgot to pick you up. I'm so sorry, Stiles. I just-I just lost track of time." She raked a hand through her hair.

"It's ok. Scott gave me a ride. I mean, it was a bit embarrassing at first and people were laughing, but after I snuggled into Scott's back, it didn't matter as much." He shrugged.

"Still, I'm sorry."

"Nah, it's cool," he waved it off, "it's clear you got a lot of things on your mind." He sat down in the middle cushion by her waist, and began rubbing her arm. Samantha wearily sighed. Stiles's touch of comfort nearly sent her into waterworks.

"You know what," he muttered. He began to climb behind her on the couch, and she scooted up closer to the edge. He slid in the space created, and snuggled up behind her. If he hadn't been so thin and gangly, they wouldn't have fit.

"You know," she said over her shoulder, "I don't think we spooned for comfort since your mom died." She felt him tense a bit, before he relaxed and spoke.

"Nah, the last time was when your boobs grew in and you were distraught."

"Oh yeah. Well, it was a very distressing time."

"I bet. You were being welcomed into 'womanhood,' and I was just barely learning my penis wasn't just for peeing."

Samantha paused for a bit, waiting for him to catch it. When he did, he immediately said, "Not that those two events were correlated. They weren't, they totally weren't. They just happened to have happened simultaneously." She just snorted out laughter.

They were silent for a bit, before Stiles sighed.

"I don't really want to press the issue, but you know you can tell me what's wrong. I mean, that's what we do; tell each other everything."

Samantha closed her eyes, trying to find the right words to appease him.

"I know it might seem like I'm keeping something from you, but I'm not. Things back at home weren't ideal for me. I needed to get away from all that, so I came to the only place I knew would help me."

"Did you fight with your parents or something?"

"No, it wasn't them."

"Problems at school?"

"Yeah, you could say that." Samantha heard him open his mouth for another question, but she cut him off before he could voice it. "Look Stiles, I'm not gonna tell you, because it's just gonna piss you off, and you're gonna try and do something about it, but there's nothing that can be done. I just want to drop it and move past it. Can you let me do that?"

He was silent for several moments, and she could practically hear his train of thought. Finally, he huffed out, "Yeah, ok."

"Thank you."

They laid there watching TV for about thirty minutes, before Uncle John came in and found them.

"You know, I can still remember the first I saw you two doing that. You guys were probably about fourteen months old, and Samantha, you had been sick. You were running a fever, and your mom put you to bed. And about five minutes later, we started to freak out because we couldn't find Stiles. We searched Grandma's house, looking everywhere for you. And sure enough, there you were cuddled up next to each other. We still don't know how to get in there." John laughed, crinkling his eyes, and Samantha and Stiles laughed with him.

"Have you kids had dinner?"

"Oh, no." Stiles grabbed his stomach as it rumbled suddenly at the thought, and looked at Samantha inquisitively.

"Don't worry,  _that_ I didn't forget."

"Of course you would forget me, and not the food." Stiles grumbled as they detangled themselves from each other and the couch. She shoved him in the ribs.

"I bought us some food from Roscoe's. It's in the microwave. Which is perfect, because it probably needs to be heated up." The three Stilinskis strode to the kitchen.

"What money did you use to buy dinner?" Uncle John inquired.

"The money I brought with me." She pressed a few buttons on the microwave, then hit start.

"Here, let me pay you back." He reached into his pocket to remove his wallet.

"No, its ok. I got it. Call it a thank you to letting me stay on such short notice. I'm _serious_." She said pointedly as Uncle John continued to shuffle through the wallet.

"So stubborn." He muttered as he set it down on the counter.

"My mom tells me its a 'Stilinski family trait'."

"Ain't that the truth." Stiles said after gulping down some water.

The microwave beeped, and Samantha took them out and put them on the table. They all sat down, and dug in. They all talked throughout the entire meal, mostly just about everyone's day, and laughing at each other's jokes, all while skirting around the topic of Samantha's sudden arrival. After they finished, Samantha and Stiles sat at the table doing homework, while Uncle John sat with them doing paperwork. All in all, it was a really nice evening, the best she'd had in a while. She could almost give in to the illusion that she was safe.

She and Stiles finished practically at the same time, and Stiles clapped his dad on the shoulder, told him goodnight and to actually go to sleep, and Samantha kissed him on the cheek, and repeated what Stiles had said with more emphasis. He chuckled, bid them goodnight, and promised he would try to get to bed at an decent hour. The two teens headed up the stairs.

"Hey, wanna play-"

"You already know it."

They sat on Stiles's bed, playing Mario Kart, nearly viciously murdering each other every time they sabotaged the other. After two hours, they were spending more time wrestling than actually playing the game, so they decided to call his quits. Samantha gathered her toiletries, and went to shower in the bathroom across the hall. She turned on the taps, and waited a bit for the water to heat up. When she got in the water was scalding, and she let it wash over her, while it kneaded the tension in her muscles. She went through the motions of bathing herself, and twenty minutes later, she was stepping out into the hallway.

Where Stiles was waiting for her.

He shoved his hand out of his mouth, where he had the chewing his nails, and straightened from where he had been leaning up against her doorjamb.

"Hey..."

"Hey." She raised her eyebrows.

"So uh, I just wanted to-uh-say goodnight."

"Really? That's it? Not even thirty minutes ago you were condemning me to eternal damnation, and now you're doing whatever this is. Spill Stilinski. What is it you really wanna say?" She tucked her towel closer around her, then crossed her arms.

Its just-I-look," he sighed, "sometimes Malia sneaks into my room, and...things happen...so I was just warning you"

"And does your dad know about this?" She tilted her head.

"No," Stiles mumbled to the floor.

"Mmhmm. Well, thanks for the heads up. Goodnight." She shoved past him to get into her room.

"Are you gonna tell him?" Stiles turned to face her in the room.

"No, I won't."

"Oh God. Thank you." Relief spread over his face.

"Yeah, don't mention it." Then she closed the door before anything else could be said. Rude, she knew, but she was starting to cold, and her nipples were at the point where she could cut diamonds. And while her and Stiles were close, she didn't think they were that  _kind_ of close.

She slipped on a pair of underwear and an oversized, comfy shirt, and climbed in to bed. Once she curled under the sheets, she turned her face into the pillow, and out all the tears and sobs she had been holding back since what felt like forever. She muffled her cries, trying not to alarm the house to her state, and soaked the pillow through. Waves of overwhelming emotions crashed into her incessantly, virtually crippling her.

It seemed to take forever for her to cry herself to sleep, and even then she couldn't find peace in her subconscious.

She bolted straight up gasping for air, and thrashing around. It took her several minutes to figure out she wasn't in any immediate danger, and she pulled her knees to chest. She wrapped her arms around her legs, rest her chin on her knees, and counted her breaths, trying to calm down. Once her senses returned to normal, and the sound of her heart pounding in her ears stopped, they picked up on other things. She sighed as she lay back down in her bed, and tried to ignore the creaking of mattress springs and breathy moans coming from the next room.


	4. Oh Yeah, We Forgot to Tell...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Derek finds out about Samantha.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> MTV owns all.
> 
> I would just like you thank y'all for y'all's the kudos(es). They mean a lot!

Derek gritted his teeth in pain.

He had caught the scent of something he couldn't identify. It was something metallic, sinister, and _old_. He followed it all over the Preserves, until the trail became jumbled up and confusing. But there was deliberation in the tangling of the scent, and Derek wasn't so sure who was following who. He decided it was probably for the best if he got out of there.

That's when he broke his leg.

He had taken off to leave the woods, and then an irrational fear crept over him. Derek didn't know where it came from, or what the cause of it was, he just knew he was being _hunted_ , and he had to get away. The fear made him sloppy. He tripped over a tree root, and landed wrong. The bone snapped, and the immense agony that came from it cleared Derek's mind. He limped as fast as he could out of the forest, the bones already knitting together.

As he emerged through the treeline, he could have sworn he heard malignant laughter from right on the edge of his hearing range. The bone wasn't healing right, and Derek cursed severely. He looked around to gain his bearings, and realized he was near Stiles's house. Could be worse, but not much.

He walked painstakingly to the familiar two-story, brick house. As he approached he turned his hearing to the sheriff's room, noting he wasn't there, then to Stiles's room, where he was sleeping, but not alone. Derek sniffed, and of course it was Malia. He dug his phone out of his pocket, and called Stiles. No answer. He tried again. Still, Stiles didn't pick up. Derek growled, and jumped rather ungracefully to the second story, right next to Stiles's bedroom window. He rapt on the glass hard. Stiles fell out of bed, limbs flailing, with a screech, and Malia shot up, half-transformed and growling.

"Let me in." Derek mouthed to Stiles when he lifted himself off the ground. Stiles walked over and flung open the window.

"What the fuck, Derek?"

"I tried to call you. Now help me in." Stiles wrapped an arm around him, and tugged him through the window seal.

"What happened to you?" Malia sat up in bed, her voice sleep-roughened, staring at his misshapen leg. Stiles followed her gaze, and yelped.

"I broke it and it didn't heal right."

"Holy shit, dude. That looks bad."

"Thank you Stiles, for that update. Now fucking help me with it."

"Help how?" Stiles's eyes were wide with alarm, no doubt remembering the other mishaps in which Derek needed Stiles's 'help'.

"You're gonna have to re-break it, then set it right."

Stiles gulped, the stench of his anxiety practically choking Derek.

"Ok, but not in here." Stiles for some unknown reason glanced at the wall on Derek's left.

"Seriously, I  _know_ your dad isn't here, and I'm pretty sure your girlfriend has a better stomach for this than you do."

"I  _said_ not here." Stiles's tone was surprising firm, and before Derek could threaten him with ripping out his throat, the gangly boy seized his arm and pulled him towards the door. Stiles was lucky; if Derek hadn't messed up his leg, Stiles would be on the ground. Stiles marched them both down the hallway, and Stiles's anxiety spiked and he seemed to hold his breath. Once they went downstairs (which made Derek want to positively  _mutilate_ the boy) he relaxed, but he kept glancing up at the ceiling. Derek flopped down on the couch.

"Look man, before we do this there's something I need to tell you." Stiles rubbed the back of his neck.

"I don't give fuck about what you have to tell me. Just fucking help me, and I'll leave." Derek spoke through clenched teeth.

"One, don't be a fucking dick; I don't have to help you. Two, its important."

"Stiles!" He snarled, with his fangs flashing at Stiles.

"Fine!" He flung his hands up. "What do you need me to do?"

"Stomp on my leg right here, then set it right." Derek stretched his leg out (or as close to it as he could get) and pointed to the spot that now was just a hairline fracture.

Stiles nodded as his anxiety levels rose again. He closed his eyes, and mouthed what probably was a prayer. When he fluttered his eyes back open, he took a deep breathing, and stomped down hard on the target. Derek flung back his head, and howled in pain. Stiles quickly moved to set his leg, and Derek snarled.

"Derek, man, you need to be quiet. There's-" Stiles words were cut off by the sound of thumping of heavy feet on the stairs. "Oh man." Stiles groaned.

Derek turned his head sharply, catching a scent he didn't recognize, nor did he detect earlier. Although, now he thought about it, he probably would have caught it if he hadn't been so preoccupied with his injury. The scent was strong, and Derek realized it was mouthwatering. It smelled exactly like the cinnamon apples his mom used to make that he couldn't get enough of. And there was something else, some underlying fragrance that he smelled before, but couldn't remember exactly what it was.

Stiles hastily moved to the other side of the living room, and tried his best to blend in with the wall there. Derek looked at him, confused by his actions, when he felt a sharp blow to the back of his head. He whipped his head around, and in front of him stood a girl he had never seen before.

"Shut the. Fuck. Up." Her eyes were barely even open, and her crazy colored hair twisted in wild curls around her head. The nightshirt she wore grazed the tops of her thighs.

"Seriously, first you and Malia are making all kinds of obscene noises, then you shriek like a fucking little girl, and now you're howling like you're some damn wolf? You've got some nerve, Stiles Stilinski! And I'm fed up with your shit!" She hit Derek again, this time in the shoulder, and Derek was surprised to find it actually kind of  _hurt_.

The girl huffed, and strode away, giving Derek a glimpse of her Iron Man panties with her ass slightly peeking out. Before his mind could properly analyze what the fuck just what happened, Stiles sat on the couch next to him. They both sat there, watching the girl until she disappeared upstairs, before Stiles said anything.

"That's what I meant to tell you. My cousin, Samantha, just moved in with us, and that was her, and we're not gonna tell her about the whole paranormal shit, so yeah..." Stiles finished lamely.

"You didn't think to text me before now?" Derek raised his eyebrows at Stiles.

"Look, she just came in today, without any warning, and you know what Derek, I've been busy."

"Yeah, with Malia." Derek snorted.

"Yeah, you're right. I've been busy with school, and homework, and the bullshit I sent through when I was  _posessed_ by a nogitsune, which I still have nightmares about, with Allison's death, with helping my father understand all this supernateral  _fuckery_ that I don't even understand myself, and yes Derek, with getting laid. So, you know what, you can suck my dick, because I don't even fucking care."

"Are you finished?" Derek glared at Stiles.

"Yes, I am. And so are you," Stiles gestured to Derek's leg, "Now get the hell out, like you promised. I wanna go back to bed, and be the little spoon."

Derek snarled at him, but all the same same stood up, and tested his leg. It healed faster than he expected, the break almost completely healed. He walked past Stiles, shoving him into the couch pillows, and headed towards the front door.

"That wasn't-necessary!" Stiles fought with the pillows.

Derek slammed the door behind him, smiling slightly. Then he turned in the direction of his car.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, there you are Derek. And so it begins. Ehehe
> 
> Hope y'all liked it. :)


	5. Group Dynamics

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just Samantha interacting with The Pack.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel that the reader may not view Samantha as a Female!Stiles. When I'm writing her dialogue, I hear Stiles, but with a feminine voice. Idk if that'll help, if you're not seeing it, but hopefully it will.
> 
> Also, I am so terribly, completely sorry I haven't updated in two months. I hope I will do better.
> 
> And lastly, Enjoy!
> 
> MTV owns all.

Samantha almost thought about hesitating. Almost. Privacy was practically a foreign concept when it came to the Stilinskis.

She gripped the doorknob, and swung open the door.

"Hey, how often do y'all do laundry. I've been keeping an eye out to see if I can throw my stuff in, but no one's done any." Samantha kept talking over Stiles shooting up from his bed, the sheet slipping dangerously low down his bare torso. Malia stayed put, with her face buried into a pillow. It didn't take long for Stiles's surprise to turn into indignation.

"What the hell, Samantha?" He gripped the sheet and lift it to his chest when he realized how close he was to exposing himself.

"The door was unlocked. Besides, I wasn't going to wait for you two to wake up; you're already running late. Now, back to the matter at hand, how often do you do laundry? Once a week?"

"Well..." Stiles rubbed the back of his neck.

"Every two weeks?"

"Uh..."

"Once a month?"

Stiles remained silent.

"Seriously, Stiles?"

"Look, I do laundry when I seem to run out of clean clothes."

"What about your dad?"

"He gets his uniforms dry cleaned. And now that I think about it, I can't remember the last time I've seen him out of it. Hm...need to talk to him about taking some time off." His words trailed off into a murmur.

"Ok well, we're going to get on a schedule. Not a strict one, just one where we don't run out of clean underwear."

" _That_ would be great. When are you planning on starting that, by the way?" Stiles's eyes flickered to his dresser.

"This weekend...unless you need to wash your clothes before then, then be my guest." Samantha narrowed her eyes at him.

"Nah," he waved her off, "I'll figure something out."

"Typical," she muttered. "By the way I need to borrow something to wear."

She navigated through the clutter scattered around the floor to reach his closet. There were a few things hanging since most of his clothes seemed to have taken residence on his floor. She grabbed a red flannel shirt, determined her bust was too big for it to fit even if Stiles bought them bigger, then reached for a dark grey tshirt.

"Hey, how come you didn't bring a lot of clothes with you? You usually bring enough to last a year." Samantha stiffened at Stiles's probing question. To Stiles, it seemed innocent enough, but she knew better.

"You guys are seriously running late. Are you sure you want to question me about my lack of preparedness this one instance?"

Stiles opened his mouth, but before he could get any word out, Malia cut him off.

"Oh my god, Stiles, let her go."

Stiles clamped his mouth shut. Samantha almost smirked at him. But she didn't. He would already be angry at her outmaneuvering him, a smirk would outrage him and add fuel to the fire. She needed him to think on other things, not obsess over holes in her story.

She moved to leave the room, and just as she went to shut the door behind her, Stiles called out.

"This isn't over."

The door shut with a decisive click.

As she entered her room to change she murmured, "Didn't expect it to be."

***

"Are those Stiles's clothes?"

Of course, out of anyone, Lydia had noticed. She was sharp, and very highly intelligent, Samantha expected. Lydia was still reserving judgement for her, and Lydia knew she knew it. There were times when Lydia would laugh at her jokes, times when there was admiration in Lydia's eyes when Samantha was being clever, and there were times when Samantha couldn't read her because she was closed off. Oh yes, Lydia was taking her time, and she didn't give a damn that that made Samantha the smallest bit nervous. Samantha liked her.

Then there was Danny. He had accepted her from day one. They had government together, and usually sat beside each other at lunch. Danny had recently asked if she wanted to be workout buddies with him, and while his version of working out and her version of working out didn't coincide, they both liked to rate the guys working out butts, which was quite fun. And practically since they met, Danny had been trying to convince her to go clubbing with him, which also sounded fun, but she told him she needed to get settled first. He scoffed at her.

Scott and her were, of course, cool. She had known him almost as long as Stiles did, since whenever she would visit they would all go to the park together. Every once in a while, the three of them would share an inside joke, leaving the others far behind and confused, and they would reign it back after they regained their composure.

Kira also wasn't sure about her. Samantha could tell Kira liked her well enough, but she wasn't sure about the relationship Scott and her had, and that was what held her back for truly accepting her. Altought, to be fair to Kira, Samantha should probably stop mock-hitting on Scott.

Issac was...difficult. He was surly, sulky, pessimistic, and full of mixed signals. He would laugh at her jokes, and she would catch him staring at her appreciatively, but in the next second he would seem furious and disgusted, and not at her, she presumed. He was clearly going through something, and she would bet that Issac would accept her, if he had been under normal circumstances.

Malia was also hard to pin down. There was something different about her. Samantha had met many blunt people in her life, and hell, get her angry and tired enough, and she could become the worst out of all of them. But there was something different about Malia's honesty. It was almost unconscious, as if she had never received the proper social filter on exactly how a person should be blunt. She wasn't malicious, like most people who ignore that social filter, and that's what was unusual. Whether or not Malia liked her, well Samantha didn't get the feeling that Malia had ever thought on it.

"Uh yeah. Ran out of clothes. Why?"

" _Those_ are the clothes you picked?" Lydia raised her eyebrows.

"Yes. I thought I looked cute. Am I wrong?" Samantha glanced around the table.

"You definitely wear it better than Stiles." Danny smirked.

"Of course she does, she has-has-" Stiles gestured to his chest.

"Yes, thank you for that input. Anyone else?"

"You look comfortable." Malia looked at her with her head tilted.

"Not quite what I was looking for, but you wouldn't be wrong. Kira, what do you think?"

Kira looked up in surprise that she had addressed her directly.

"Um, are you wearing combat boots?"

"Yes." Samantha smiled indulgently.

"I like the whole grunge look, and I think you pull it off well. Especially with how you did your hair and makeup."

"Thank you, Kira." Samantha touched her neatly-done, purposefully messy bun.

"Alright. Fine. You win. You've got the whole table on your side."

"I wouldn't say that. Scott and  Issac haven't said anything." Samantha gave her a crooked grin.

"Oh don't be such a smartass."

"In the DNA, I'm afraid. But on a more serious note, I know where you're trying to go with this."

"Oh, you do, do you?"Lydia quirked an eyebrow, and leaned forward.

"Absolutely." Samantha crossed her arms and leaned back in her chair.

"Then you should know I don't play; I'll pick you up at 7. AM."

"Buy me breakfast, then we've got a deal."

"Why would I do that? This is your excursion."

"Touche, Miss Martin. I'll buy my own breakfast."

"Anyone else confused?" Kira asked around.

"Definitely me." Malia raised her hand. Stiles lowered it, mumbling about how she didn't have to do that here.

"I don't care enough to be confused." Came from Issac's end.

"Are you talking about what I think you're talking about?"

"Caught on, have you Danny boy?"

"Is that a yes or a no?" Danny inquired, not giving Samantha a reaction.

"Ok, seriously, what is going on? It's killing me over here!"

Stiles threw his arms into the air, nearly elbowing Samantha in the eye socket. She caught his flailing limb, and slowly brought it to his side.

"We're going shopping."

***

Saturday morning dawned bright and early, and Samantha was a bit more than disgruntled. She hadn't gotten a lot of sleep that night. Not that she ever did. And she was starting to think that shopping with Lydia was a bad and formidable idea. But she also understood that this was an initiation of sorts. She wondered if the others had to do the same thing.

 She meandered to Stiles's door and banged really hard.

"OHMYGODWHAT!" Stiles roared through the door.

"Tell Malia to get her ass up. Lydia's gonna be here in 10 minutes."

"You know, I still don't understand why I have to go."

"I don't know; I didn't make the rules."

Samantha shuffled into the bathroom, washed her face, brushed her teeth, threw her hair into a ponytail, and put on a little bit of makeup.

After she finished changing, she left the room to go downstairs. Malia left Stiles's room as she reached the top stair.

"There. I"m ready." She flung her arms open.

"I would suggest running a comb through your hair. You don't want to give her a reason. Top left drawer." Malia murmured her thanks as she took her advice, and Samantha headed down the stairs.

Samantha flopped down on the couch, and moments later Malia joined her.

"I  _hate_ waking up early." Samantha restrained herself from rubbing her eyes.

"I used to rise with the sun."

"What happened?" Samantha turned her head to look at Malia.

"I became human."

Samantha roared with laughter.

"Why are you laughing?" Malia furrowed her eyebrows.

"Because...that was...funny" Samantha wiped the tears from the corner of her eyes.

Malia looked like she wanted to say something else, but a car horn blared from the direction of the drive way.

"That's Lydia. Come on."

They rose from the couch, yelling goodbye to Stiles, who yelled back but nothing as nice, and left. Outside a pearl white Cadillac SUV waited, Lydia's impatient face peeking up from above the steering wheel and Danny's weary one from the passenger seat. They got in the car quickly, not wanting another honk of the horn.

"I thought you drove a car, Lydia?" Malia asked as she ran her hands over the leather seats.

"I do. This is my mom's. She let me borrow it."

"And you know how to drive it?"

"Of course." She then proceeded to show Samantha, that she did not, in fact, know how to drive and SUV well. By the time they had reached Kira's house, Samantha had been firmly gripping the oh-shit bar for a solid ten minutes. Lydia honked the horn a couple of times, and Kira came promptly running out.

"Hey guys." She smiled at she got in.

"Oh god, you're a morning person." Samantha rolled her head back against her headrest, and from the front, Danny groaned.

"Kinda," Kira laughed, "So, I was talking to Scott, and we think we should have a movie night at his place after we're done. You guys down?"

Samantha nodded, and Malia and Danny murmured their consent.

"Cool. I'll tell Scott."

"That's if," Lydia started with an evil grin playing on her face, "you all survive today."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah, just get me to a drive-through already, ginger."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ***Promise the next chapter will speed things up***


	6. Revelations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everybody learns something new.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would like to formally apologize for the long ass wait for this chapter. I feel absolutely terrible, and I promise I will try harder to put out new chapters in a more timely manner.  
> But other than that, enjoy!

Samantha didn't realize how much she appreciated living back at home until she had to buy a whole new wardrobe. Seriously, she never thought she would miss having an overabundance of socks and underwear. Nothing like losing everything to put things in perspective.

She sat on the bed, surrounded by a sea of brightly colored shopping bags, and blew the hair out of her face. She had a lot of work to do, and she didn't want to do any of it. She wanted to curl up and attempt to convince herself that everything was ok. But scattered all across her floor was a glaring reminder that everything wasn't. She felt confined in her own skin. She wanted, no needed, to claw herself free, until she transcended her anxiety, her desolation, her desperate terror.

Of course, she couldn't do that. She would never feel safe again, she knew that down to her very core. Samantha longed for the days when all it took for her to feel that way was hearing her mother's soft voice, was snuggling herself in her father's protective embrace, was looking into Stiles's nonjudgmental, amber eyes. But all that was gone now, and the only thing she could do was live with it.

_Screw it_ , Samantha thought. Her clothes could wait. She was bone tired from shopping and maintaining the appearance of someone not spiraling downwards into an endless, consuming void all morning and afternoon. The thought of continuing the facade later tonight at Scott's movie night exhausted her even more.

Kicking off her shoes, she removed the bags from her bed and placed the on the floor with the rest of them. Samantha burrowed under the blankets, and tried to fall into an uneasy slumber.

***

She bolted straight up, tearing at the covers, gasping for air. Again. Trying to get a grip, she counted her frantic heartbeats.  _One...two...three_. Time passed, her adrenaline levels lowering, sweat beads slide down her spine.  _Seventy-four_ _...seventy-five...seventy-six_.

The dark, malicious laughter she thought she heard was actually Stiles's genuine, belly-deep one. Another false alarm. She reached for her phone and saw she had an hour and a half to ready for movie night. These days, she didn't need an alarm clock.

She got up, and shuffled to her vanity. Samantha picked up her over-half used tube of concealer, and began applying liberally to her hollow eyes.

*** (Derek POV)

There is was again. That  _awful_ stench; that scent from the woods. This time, it was in the filthy alley behind his building. And it was strong. Whatever the creature was, it had staked him out for a long time without him noticing. That wasn't very comforting. He thought about calling Scott a time or two, but that would be jumping the gun. Derek didn't want to involve him yet, not without knowing what the hell this thing was. They were still recovering from the nogitsune possession; he wanted to give them a little more time before he told them they were in danger again. Not that he absolutely certain they were in danger again, but the emotions the scent gave off wasn't exactly cheerful and friendly.

He followed the scent, treading through seedy downtown, dodging all sorts of lowlifes and desperate creatures, all the way out to the suburbs of Beacon Hills. All the way out to Scott's house in fact. It surrounded the two-story home and it was fresh. His ears picked up several elevated heartbeats and his nose smelt the sharp tang of fear.

Then he heard a shriek.

He barreled towards the house, smashing through the door, half-transformed, without a single thought.

*** (Samantha POV)

"Who the fuck thought it was a good idea to watch  _The Blair Witch Project_?" Stiles muttered from above her. Samantha agreed with the sentiment. This wasn't helping anything.

"Stiles, this is a classic. No true horror fan would say they haven't seen it." Danny popped some popcorn in his mouth.

They were all lounging in Scott's living room, facing the TV. Scott and Kira were laying on the love seat together, Kira in between Scott's legs, their hands intertwined. Stiles, Malia, and Danny sat on the couch, Stiles in the middle, leaning into Malia and Danny getting cozy with a bowl of popcorn. Samantha and Issac were banished to the floor; she sat with her back against the armrest, her knees drawn up to her chest; Issac with his legs spread out, leaned back against Danny's legs. Lydia commandeered her own armchair.

"I have no interest in being a 'true horror fan'." Stiles voice slightly stifled by the crook of Malia's neck.

"Since when?" Samantha turned back to look at him, her eyebrow raised.

"Since...now." Samantha snorted at him. His excuses were getting flimsier by the year.

"Come on, Stiles," Issac drawled, "this isn't the scariest thing you've seen."

"Of course it isn't,  _Issac_ ," Stiles said through clenched teeth, "but I'd rather not..."

Samantha stopped listening after that. Her gaze was glued to the screen. The shot of the woods was grainy and confusing, but in the distance, beyond the tree line were glowing eyes. Glowing eyes that looked awfully familiar. Her eyes widened, her heart skipped a beat, then raced. Her mind flooded with unbidden thoughts.

_Not here; not now_.

A hand gripped her shoulder, and she whipped around letting out a piercing cry.

"Whoa Sam, are you ok?" Stiles's whiskey eyes shone of concern.

Breathing hard, "Yeah I-"

The sound of splintering wood suddenly filled them room, startling everyone. But that wasn't what scared Samantha the most; it was the deep, threatening snarls that come from the doorway that did her in. Because in the doorway, was her nightmares come to life.

*** (Derek POV)

Derek burst into the living room, only to find surprised and rankled teenagers. Scott, Issac, and Malia were in various states of transformation. While Issac half-crouched on the floor in front of him, Malia jumped in front of Stiles to protect him. Scott and Kira had fallen on the floor, attempting to stand up. Danny and Lydia had moved faster than Derek ever dreamed of and darted behind the couch.

"WHAT THE FUCK, DEREK?" Stiles roared at him from behind Malia.

"Derek, dude, why did you break through the front door? My mom is gonna kill me."

"Are you all alright?"

"WHY THE FUCK WOULDN'T WE BE?"

"I thought-" Derek snarled at Stiles before he was interrupted.

"Uh guys?" Lydia's voice rang.

"What?" Stiles yelled and Derek growled.

Lydia point to the side of the couch that was opposite to Derek. He flicked his gaze down, only to see a pair of feet.

"Ohmygodsamantha." Stiles scrambled off the couch, flopping onto the floor, then crawled towards the side.

That's when it hit him. The sound of a frenzied heart on the verge of collapse and wheezing lungs too overwrought to form sobs yet crashed over him, and he was dizzied by the stench of pure, unadulterated fear.

"So much for keep it a secret."

"Not now, Lydia!" Stiles reached his arms out, presumably gripping his cousin, while everyone drew closer, circling around her. Including Derek. He came around the couch, behind Malia and Scott, peering between them and caught his breath. The girl was curled into herself tight, her face buried in her knees, her hands clenched tight in her colorful hair. She rocked back and forth, shaking her head. He had never seen anything like it, and for the first time in his life, he felt shame for what he was. She thought he was a monster and she couldn't cope with being in the same world as him.

"Samantha, look at me! I need you to look at me! Please!" Stiles cried with a desperate despair.

The girl continued to rock and shake her head, but she started to moan. "No no no no no no no no no no no..."

"Yes! You have too! You know what happens if you keep this up. Please just look at me!"

"No...this wasn't supposed to happen. Not here; not now."

"Wait, what? Samantha," Stiles wretched her face up,"what are you talking about?"

Her eyes flickered around rapidly, not seeing anything. "Not here; not now"She whimpered.

"Sam, tell me what's going on." Stiles shook her.

Suddenly, her eyes focused. On Derek. And she screamed.

"NO! NOT HERE!"

Derek backed away quickly, not wanting to upset her anymore than she already was. She thrashed around, breaking out of Stiles's grip.

"Sam-" Scott reached down to still her.

"You," she gasped, "you're one of them! I saw you!" The girl shirked away from Scott.

Stiles fought to regain a grip on her. Once he did, he used all his strength to subdue her. "Sammy, look at me, talk to me. What's happening?"

At last, the sound of her name calmed her. Her eyes snapped to Stile's, her golden hazel irises thin from her blown pupils.

"They're werewolves, Stiles. I moved to get away from them, and now there are some here."


End file.
